‘Crikey, that’s a lot of books.’ John helped her from the car with some of them after she’d apologised profusely for being late. The pile looked smaller when he held them.

‘Yep, one of the many joys of a teaching career. I’ve got a hot date with a red pen tonight.’ Rory opened the front door the only way that seemed to work: key in the lock, turn it, throw yourself against the door.

‘Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself.’ John ran his fingers around the door frame. ‘You’ve got some nasty swelling there. I’ll get a plane out of the van and sort that out for you before I go.’

Rory dropped her pile of exercise books onto the table and John placed the ones he’d taken neatly beside them.

‘Thanks for coming. I really didn’t expect you to come and look at it. I thought you could just tell me what to do over the phone.’ The thought of digging around in the muck below the plug hole made her retch. It had been bad enough using a saucepan to scoop up the cold and dirty water in the sink and chuck it on the garden. She would have done it though. Eventually.

‘It’s no problem, I knew I’d be on my way back from a job anyway and I didn’t have plans tonight.’ He moved his head slowly to take in the rest of the sitting room. ‘This house will be beautiful when you’ve done it up.’

At last, someone else could see it. ‘I think so. Paint, new tiles – you won’t recognise the place.’

John turned to look at her. He rubbed his face, which made a scratchy noise. ‘It’ll take more than a bit of paint.’

Here came the hard sell. ‘I know, it needs everything doing to it, but I’m not afraid of hard work.’

John pressed his lips together. ‘It’ll take a very long time if you do it all yourself.’

‘I won’t be doing it all myself. Belle is helping me.’ Rory should have used past tense. Belle had helped in the last two weeks of the summer but wasn’t keen to carry on now she’d started college.

John was looking up at the ornate coving. It had a few chips out of it, but Rory thought it would look better once it was painted white. John’s expression suggested otherwise. ‘Look, why don’t you let me help you?’

Rory stiffened. Either he believed she wasn’t capable of doing it, or he thought that he could make some easy money out of her. She wasn’t stupid. ‘Thanks. But I’m fine.’

Now John was crouched on the floor, running his finger along the skirting board. ‘There are so many original features. You need to make a good job of this.’

Rory tried not to stare at his hands. ‘I intend to.’

John rested back on his haunches. He had noticeably muscular thighs. ‘I grew up in a house just like this. I’d enjoy working on this place. Restoring it to its former glory.’

Did she need to tell him again that she hadn’t asked him to? And why was he looking up at her like that? Was he appraising her for restoration, too? ‘I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. However long it takes.’

‘Look.’ He stood up and did that scratchy face rub again. ‘I’ve got a mate who wants to make me a website. And I need some photos of my work. Kind of a before and after type thing.’

Rory could see where this was leading. ‘Okay.’

‘And. Let’s face it, you won’t find many more extreme before photos than this place.’ John grinned, then stopped, coughed and frowned up at the coving again. Clearly, it was very interesting. ‘So, if I can take some pictures for my website, I’ll give you a big discount on the work.’

Rory could almost hear her mother telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. But she wanted to do this herself. And who was this man, anyway? Anyone could drive a white van and give out business cards in B&Q. ‘I’m not sure. This was supposed to be my project.’

John dragged his eyes away from the interesting coving and held up his hands. ‘It will be your project – I’ll just be the hired hands. I’ll do the bits you don’t want to.’

If he’d said the bits you can’t do, Rory would have refused on the spot. But the enormity of the task she had taken on was beginning to dawn on her. Maybe some help would be a good thing.

‘I’ll think about it.’

John gave a short nod and pointed to the kitchen door. ‘Shall I go and get on with it?’

‘Thanks. I’m just going to run upstairs and get changed.’

It felt slightly odd to have a man in the house. Especially when she was taking her clothes off. Obviously he was only there as a handyman, and would not be bursting into her bedroom, but it was still weird.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t dated since Scott. They’d split up over fifteen years ago and, whatever Susie believed, Rory hadn’t been a nun since then. But there had been no one special. She hadn’t wanted anyone special. Sex was sex, but her real life was her and Belle, and she didn’t want anyone else to spoil it.

That was a point: she should warn Belle that there was a man in the house, just in case she’d done her usual and changed into her PJs the minute she got home. She knocked on Belle’s bedroom door. There was no answer. Rory peeked inside. Where was she?

She paused for a moment on the threshold. The walls of Belle’s bedroom were like an insight into her teenage mind. Oddly, the pictures of princesses – which Rory had always hated – now made her feel nostalgic for that time when they weren’t fighting for wall space with Justin Bieber. Since Belle had turned sixteen and started sixth form there had been a definite change in her. Of course, Rory had always wanted to raise an independent, strong-minded woman – and she’d fought a long-standing battle against the role models of Snow White, Rapunzel and their chums – but now the memories of a toothy little girl in a Cinderella costume tweaked her heart a little. Be careful what you wish for.

Hearing the front door open, she went downstairs to find her daughter hanging up her coat.

‘Hi, Mum, sorry I’m late. I was at Fiona’s house and we were talking and I just forgot the time.’

Rory kissed Belle’s cool cheek, which smelled of the outdoors, and pushed her fringe out of her eyes. Eyeshadow? ‘That’s okay, I’ve only just got in myself. Listen, I have a stack of marking to do, so how do you feel about pizza again tonight?’

‘Pizza? That sounds good,’ John walked into the hallway. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He held out his hand. Belle shook it a little self-consciously, shaking her fringe back out from behind her ear, and then looked at her mother.

‘John is here to sort out the sink for us. I couldn’t get it unblocked.’

‘And now you’re joining us for pizza, too. Great!’ Belle gave her mum an enquiring and expectant look.

John’s eyes widened. ‘No! I wasn’t inviting myself. Er… there’s nothing in the trap. I need to… uh… go out the back and check the drains.’ He backed out of the hallway into the sitting room. Practically ran.

Rory flushed. She blamed her mother for Belle’s desire to fix her up with any man who crossed their path.

‘I did wonder what that big white van was doing here.’ Belle nudged Rory. ‘John seems really nice, Mum.’

Rory pointed a finger at her daughter. ‘Don’t you even start with that. I assumed you’d learned your lesson a long time ago, after trying to fix me up with your primary school teacher. Your married primary school teacher.’

‘You need to start thinking about it, Mum. Gran and I were talking about this the other day. It’s about time you fell in love.’

Rory was about to start on her usual rant about the illusion of romantic love, when John popped his head around the door. ‘It is the drains. I’m just going to dredge them. Might stink a bit.’ He disappeared again.

Rory lowered her voice to a stage whisper. ‘Life is not a fairy tale, Belle.’ She swiped at her daughter’s legs as Belle mouthed the words along with her. ‘And don’t mimic your mother.’

‘Gran says you make your own life story.’ Belle had her hands on her hips. ‘And mine is definitely going to be a fairy tale.’ She dropped her hands and looked at Rory: more seriously now.

Rory needed to tread carefully. ‘What is it?’

Belle looked down at the black and white tiles on the hallway floor, and then back up again. She lowered her voice a little. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.’ She paused. ‘I’ve started seeing someone from college. A boy, I mean.’

Rory motioned with her head that they should go into the sitting room and sit down. Finally, Belle was going to tell her about the boyfriend. She should be pleased. She should be relieved. But the mention of a boyfriend made her feel strange. ‘Is he nice?’

Belle blushed and nodded. ‘Really nice, Mum. But I don’t want to talk about him too much yet. I might jinx it.’

But Rory needed a bit more information. What was his name? Was he kind? Was he careful? What was his family like? Could she trust him? Did he know how lucky he was? Okay, she wanted a lot of information. But then John came back in and he was holding a… Was that a frog?

He was beaming. John. Not the frog. ‘Look at this little fella!’

Belle ran to him: she had always loved any kind of animal, that girl. Rory was less keen. Particularly with regard to amphibians. ‘What is that doing in my house?’

‘He was sitting on the drain cover. So I brought him in to say hello.’ John gave the frog to Belle. ‘I’ll just go and put the cover back on.’ He disappeared again.

Belle took the frog to Rory and held it up to her. ‘You should kiss him, Mum. Might turn into a prince.’

That girl was starting to get way too cheeky. ‘Please take him back outside. I don’t have time in my life for frogs. Or princes, for that matter. Speaking of which, this boyfriend of yours…’

John walked back in and started to run the tap in the kitchen. The water drained away perfectly. ‘All done. Now I’ll get my plane out of the car and sort that front door.’

Belle and Rory looked at each other. The boyfriend conversation would have to wait.

---

Later that evening, Rory gave Sheila a call to check in.

‘Belle told me about the boyfriend tonight.’

‘I’m glad. Do you feel better about it now?’

Rory wasn’t sure whether she did or not. ‘Maybe. She hasn’t really told me very much yet. Apparently, she doesn’t want to jinx it.’

‘Well. You’d better get used to that. You never told me anything about your boyfriends when you were a teenager.’

This was partly why Rory was uneasy. She could remember distinctly why she’d never told her parents about her boyfriends, and it wasn’t a good thing.

‘She also mentioned that you’d had a conversation with her about me meeting someone. Thanks for that.’

Sheila tutted. ‘Oh, don’t be so sensitive. Belle is a romantic; she wants to see you happy. I want to see you happy.’

‘I am happy.’ Rory didn’t consider whether this was actually true or not. ‘Anyway, it’s not just the two of you on at me. Susie and Penny are coming round tomorrow night and I think I’m going to get the same from them.’

‘I like that Susie. She’s got a lot of get up and go. Penny could do with a bit of backbone. You should tell them to try the singles classifieds. Barb came round last night and she’d cut some of them out of the paper. The things these people ask for!’

‘Really?’ Rory had never read a singles ad, but she assumed they would be tame. Companions for long country walks and a penchant for log fires and argyle sweaters, that kind of thing.

‘You would be amazed. It’s not the women, obviously. The women looking for men are generally realistic, some are even a little pessimistic. One had actually written “No time wasters” like she was selling a used car. But the men! Oh my word! Almost all of them are looking for women fifteen years younger than they are. They even have specific requirements about looks: slim, blonde, medium height. I bet they are short, fat and bald. There were a few who wrote that they wanted someone “active”. I assumed that meant they liked to play sports, but Barb says it’s about sex. Charming, eh?’

Rory could imagine the look on her mum’s face. ‘Maybe they were written by the estate agent for this house. He was rather creative with his descriptions.’

‘Exactly! And if you don’t understand what they mean, you could get yourself into no end of trouble. They even have letters after their names which are like a secret code. For example, GSOH means Good Sense of Humour. Barb thinks we should put an ad in and see what happens.’

‘Maybe you should, Mum. Might be a laugh.’

Sheila snorted. ‘What would I write, for goodness sake? Grandmother of one, sixty-five, looking to meet a tea-drinking, newspaper-reading, quiet man in his sixties.’ She thought for a moment. ‘AMOT.’

This was a new one on Rory. ‘What’s AMOT?’

‘All My Own Teeth.’

---

Rory peeped in the door at Belle before she went to bed. Her daughter had fallen asleep with her phone in her hand and it took every ounce of Rory’s self-control not to tap in her code and look at her messages. Belle could be trusted. Of course she could. Rory would make time this week for them to sit down and have a proper conversation about this boy. Belle was a clever girl, but she was naïve; Rory didn’t want her to get hurt.

One person who wouldn’t wait much longer for a boyfriend conversation was Susie. Rory was already regretting agreeing to a get-together tomorrow night. With the house, school and everything going on with Belle, she had so much to think about. The last thing she needed was one of Susie’s ‘Find a Man’ schemes.